Restless
by Beckon
Summary: Two wars separated by three years, a near collapse of the country itself, everything seemingly falling apart around him, it seemed like a decent rap sheet. A decent enough excuse for these kinds of nightmares.


**A/N: I've been obsessed with this couple so much that it's not even funny.**

It was a sharp pounding in the back of his head and a cold sweat against his skin that greeted him from his abrupt pull of sleep. His heart thrashed achingly against his chest plate, desperate to get out, and it felt like it was trying to throttle his already pained lungs in the process. For a brief moment, every joint and every bone in his body ached with shearing pain that rushed heat down to his fingertips and pooled it across his chest.

And in just a few seconds… it was all over.

The scattered gasps and pants for air from before eventually eased themselves into a softer, quieter rhythm as the initial trauma escaped him. Partly numbed fingers moved to pinch the empty space between his eyes, almost unable to feel the contact at first, before they spread out to more so cover his face. The occasional groove of tissue beneath his fingers sparked the placement of scars against his skin, each one detailing a strike that was worse than the last. He had long since become numb to their presence but... moments like this made them feel larger than they really were.

This was the third nightmare in this week alone…

He was never going to sleep again, was he?

... He never remembered what these nightmares consisted of though, as far as he could tell they were just black, empty spaces; images with no pictures, no sound… nothing. It was just like keeping his eyes close or standing still in a dark room. So why did it frighten him to this extent? Why did these black spaces force him awake constantly throughout the night, throughout the week? It wasn't just a simple jolt that could be cursed upon and then ignored by rolling back over onto the other side of the bed. It was an accelerated heart rate, a break out into an excessive blanket of cold sweat, a raging headache, physical pain that dug into every vulnerable point of his body... Even just thinking about it now brought a tightened feeling to his chest.

Fingers moved to faintly press against his temples, partly cradling his head in his hands.

It was a matter he tried not to think about, or really even get that much into… he didn't want to think about the possible reasons for it. There were always those statements that said war and violence could break a person and up until now he had always considered himself stronger than that. As of lately though, he found himself going back and forth between the occasional details of this... disease or whatever it was the healers called it. Maybe he was just fooling himself…

Two wars separated by three years, a near collapse of the country itself, everything seemingly falling apart around him, it seemed like a decent rap sheet. A decent enough excuse for these kinds of nightmares. But all of that had been left behind him, it had been two years since the fall of the Goddess and the restoration of the entire continent of Tellius.

So why now?

Fingers moved to knit themselves against the back of his neck, feeling every scar that filled the space between the movement. Tissue twisted against his cheek, the bone of his jaw and along the curve of his neck. Small knots of pale tissue that forced grooves underneath his fingertips, creating a graphic map of hardened lines over his skin.

Eyes eventually forced themselves open, taking in the stilling darkness around him; the window to his right showed only the coat of black that remained outside... it wasn't even dawn yet, that was a new record. He gave a brief shake of his head before he looked over to his left and noted that the woman next to him still remained in her own fit of sleep; not once did she even show a sign of moving in the slightest bit. And he was glad for that. He hated it when he woke her up during these times, knowing that he never knew really what the cause of these night terrors were. She was always understanding about it though, offering whatever words of comfort she could through mumbled remarks and tired hands. But she had a big day tomorrow with the opening of a new shop in town… he didn't want to distract her from that and knew she would need the energy for tomorrow.

Blonde locks that were usually pulled back away from her face were let loose and tangled messily around her; most of the bundled strands were either tucked behind her shoulders or trapped between her head and pillow. This was one of those rare times where she was completely without make up and he questioned why she bothered with the extensive cover anyways. She used to absolutely hate letting him see her without some form of make up or with her hair all in a mess, but then he purposely started getting up before her and she had eventually let the matter go. One would think that after almost two full years of marriage she would've put details like that behind them, but he still had to fight her on it from time to time.

The dark covers were tucked loosely under one arm, revealing her bare shoulder and how one hand had been resting somewhere against him... it had fallen against the bed below though; carefully manicured fingers were curled in lightly against the blanket, not even noticing that they weren't against bare skin anymore.

"Dad!"

The break of the silence around him was briefly startling but he caught himself easily enough before the tension could return to his chest. A short sigh escaped his half-marred lips before he moved to ease himself out of the bed as quietly as he could. It wasn't very often the girl would call out for someone in the middle of the night, but without a doubt, she always called for him first. Maybe she knew that half the time he would already be awake, or maybe that her mother could be a bit more stubborn to get up sometimes.

Slipping into a simple outfit that had been tossed aside before, he carefully departed from the room; keeping the door slightly ajar behind him. One hand moved to massage the back of his neck as he made his way down the thin corridor outside, the muscle was aching and he swore if he had gotten up any faster he would've given himself whiplash.

Her room was at the far end of the hallway because for some reason she really wanted the corner room when they moved in. They had just been too busy worrying that moving around would stress her out, but the girl barely seemed to blink at the motions; her cheerfulness never once wavering. He probably ended up stressing himself out over the matter more than anyone else. After the end of the Goddess war, he had given a half proposal right there on the field and the Fire Sage accepted without hesitation- of course, he went back after the country had settled down and performed a more proper one. She still accepted. At that single moment, it had just been the two of them and they weren't worried about the things around them... and then when details were taking place, the difficult parts started showing up. He and Amy were fairly close from just the occasional visits to the tavern and then when the Goddess sent out her wave of judgment, he ended up picking her up and returning her to her mother; it was weeks of traveling together and he had to admit that they had bonded decently enough with the time given.

But she had lost the man she knew as her father a year or so before the war. He didn't want to seem like he was trying to replace him, he was willing to give her more time to adjust and was okay if she didn't want to accept him as another father figure. Of course, she proved him wrong in that manner as well.

If anything, her bright, innocent attitude allowed for her to only see forward instead of back.

She never seemed to hesitate to call him as her own father.

"Dad!"

And... another call was set to confirm that.

"I'm right here." he called back to her as he reached the propped door to her room. Using the side of his hand to ease the door opened further, he stepped in briefly and noted where she was sitting up in her bed; a small candle had been lit at the bedside table. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I had a bad dream." she answered simply enough, knees partly pressed against her chest.

That was the usual reason for a late call like this one.

Giving a light nod, he pushed himself through the doorway and slowly walked over to her bedside. Just like her mother, the girl was rarely seen with her hair down but now the violet-red strands curled out around her face; framing her worried expression. He moved to brush a few locks out of her face, tucking them behind one ear. "What was it about?"

Her light frown seemed to deepen at the question. "I dreamed I was out playing in the field and the ground opened up underneath me and swallowed me whole. It got all dark and really scary."

"Don't worry, it was only a dream." he assured. "Plus it's impossible for an entire field to open up without any warning, at most only a small portion could and even then it'd be a short foot or two drop."

"It could still happen." Amy insisted, her frown only furthering again. "... Can you stay with me? Just for a little bit?"

He didn't know why she bothered to keep asking that, he always made sure she went back to sleep before he left. "Yeah, I'll be here." he nodded, eventually taking a seat on the open edge of her bed.

She shuffled herself closer to him, pressing part of her face against the curve of his arm. "Were you already awake?"

For a moment, the question seemed strange.

Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was a Branded with a small black mark curved over the back of her right shoulder. She didn't know she was or what it meant and lived her life on day by day without questioning the matter. But every so often she seemed to be able to hone in on the different senses the brand gave her. While it was certainly too early to tell if the mark would give her something like extended knowledge in the use of a sword or some other weapon, or whatever else was possible... she seemed to have an extended knack for sensing when things were wrong. Even Calill had made a remark once before that the girl could go straight up to someone she didn't even know and seemingly knew the person was suffering.

Maybe he was just looking too deeply into this though.

She probably just noticed that he was here quicker than most other times.

"Yeah, something like that." he answered. "I guess you could say that I had a bad dream too."

"What was yours about?"

He had asked himself that same thing.

"Not really sure, I don't remember much of it." he started, fingers moving to brush aside a few more of her tangled locks. "I'm not worried about it though... it's not real."

"What if it is though?"

"... It'll be fine even if." he remarked, watching as she moved to prop her chin against his arm; matching violet-red eyes stared back up at him as though not believing in his answer in the least bit. He guessed he didn't really believe it either, which made it difficult to sell. "Come on, a short walk should do the both of us some good."

Often times whenever her nightmares seemed severe he would walk her around the house until she fell asleep in his arms. He was a little surprised she hadn't already requested that he do so, but she probably saw it as a force of habit anyways and knew he would do it eventually.

She immediately reached up to wrap her arms around his neck in response.

Lifting her up against him, he felt the way she buried her head against his collarbone as she always did; always careful to not irritate the knotted tissue that barely peeked out from underneath his thin shirt.

Taking the two of them back out into the corridor, he made his way towards the other end where the staircase would be. The stairs were a bit difficult to descend quietly seeing as every other step protruded a cringe-worthy creak that, in the dead of night, sounded like it was magnified around them. With every step, he swore he thought the Sage was going to step out of their room to see what the commotion was.

The first floor was masked entirely in darkness, but he found that he had most of the rooms memorized anyways; he would actually be a little worried if he hadn't already at this point seeing as they've been living here for awhile now. And he had walked these rooms many times before in the dead of night. This was nothing new.

Fingers ran along the smooth surface of the railing next to him, feeling how the wood had been sanded down again and again until it created the perfect surface.

Reaching the bottom floor, he stepped carefully off the last step and slowly made his way into the main hallway, eventually turning into the nearest open doorway. He used his free hand to help guide him along most of the time in hopes to spare his shins a hit or two against any possible furniture units. For the most part, he could manage through the darkness, but every now and again it seemed like the furniture willingly moved on its own and tossed itself into his path. With it still being pitch dark outside, he toyed with the idea of how relaxing it would be to go out for a ride. But he wasn't really up for leaving the house right now, even if it was after helping Amy go back to asleep. Not to mention, his horse took a pretty nasty hit the other day during practice and he was giving the animal a few days to rest, hoping the minor limp would heal easily enough.

He moved room by room, keeping a steady pace going so not to move through the house all that quickly. The girl had gone quiet and he could already tell she was going back to sleep easily enough; it never really took her that long to anyways. By the time he reached the front room, she had passed out completely.

Chuckling lightly to himself, he paused just long enough to let his eyes finish adjusting to the growing darkness; overlooking the small outline of the open room. He was careful to make his way through the maze of furniture pieces before he managed to make his way to an arm chair in the far corner. Fingers reached out and ran against the solid arm of the chair before he moved to ease himself into it. His body felt like it was protesting the motion and made it increasingly difficult to settle in against the slanted back of the chair. Skin pulled slightly from around the scar tissue that lined his own back, the stiffness of the twisted tissue always found a way to limit his movements at times. Even after two years, it felt like the injuries had yet to heal; the scar tissue making them feel worse somehow. Eventually he managed to find a somewhat comfortable position, forcing himself to deal with a few moments of discomfort in order to do so.

As much as he tried to overlook them, even ignore them at times… he figured at this point, he should've been able to accept them for what they were, for what they proved.

It was kind of strange… essentially he was trying to avoid the darkness and yet here he was sitting in it instead. That made sense, right?

He glanced down at the girl already fast asleep in his arms again; fingers brushed aside her untamed locks once more, now somewhat understanding why she always had them pulled into pigtails.

They used to laugh and say that Amy was enough for the both of them to handle, but now that things around Crimea had calmed down for the most part... they had reconsidered that choice only briefly. Calill had remarked once before that she couldn't see herself ever bearing a child, despite the fact that her own mother had her when she was barely seventeen. She just couldn't see herself going through that kind of ordeal, but as of lately she seemed to be expressing a change of heart on the matter. Of course, she quickly blamed the shift in opinion on the slight surge of pregnant women in the town. Makalov and Astrid would be welcoming their first child soon enough. Kieran and Marcia were a few weeks off from their wedding date and they were already talking about kids.

Lucia remarked that it seemed more like an epidemic of some sort, but was quick to dismiss that she would ever be involved in it.

Of course Bastian made his own comment on the matter, saying something along the lines that he would use his charm to change her mind.

And then she broke his nose.

It was times like these, where one thought could lead into a different flow of them, that he realized how lucky he was. At the end of the war, he swore his body consisted of more scar tissue than actual skin; each one marking where blood had been shed. Sometimes they drove him crazy and sometimes he felt like he was trapped by them, but... at least he was alive to deal with them. They lost a lot of good soldiers during that last war, soldiers who would've gladly dealt with some annoying tissue rather than lose their lives.

Each scar reminded him of every deliberate carve of the blade, every peel and cut of flesh and muscle; it reminded him of the seemingly endless pouring of blood from the open wounds, the rampage of pain from every burning nerve beneath split skin.

But those days were over with.

They had long since disappeared behind him.

There were moments where he sank into the darkness, questioning and wondering what the hell he was doing or what his plans to get out were. He figured those moments were unavoidable and they would eventually engulf him, if only temporarily. As long as he kept pulling himself out of every session, then... things would be okay. He'd eventually overcome it or find a steadier pattern in it at least.

There was a lot still going on in this world.

He wasn't going to risk missing out of any of it.

He stayed an extra half hour or so seated in the darkness, making sure that Amy was deep enough in sleep so that she wouldn't be woken up as he carried her back up the stairs. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the stairs did seem quieter this time around, as did the floorboards running down the second corridor. Gently tucking her back into bed, he watched as she snuggled in beneath her blanket before he put out the half-melted candle beside her.

Returning to their shared bedroom, he noted that the Sage didn't appear to have moved at all during his absence; she remained almost exactly how she was before he left. Peeling off the thin clothing once more, he managed to slip back into bed without garnering much noise; feeling that same stiff sense of comfort from before radiating from his scars. It was still manageable though...

Curled fingertips moved to brush lightly against his chest, going unnoticed at first before they managed to make their way to the curve of his jaw. The flat of her thumb moved soft circles underneath his lip, briefly tracing out an elongated mark that cut into her path. Other knots of tissue seemed to disappear beneath the cover of her hand and for a moment, every bump and groove of tissue felt like it was gone just the same.

"Did I wake you?"

"I've been awake for awhile now." she mumbled softly as fingers continued to circle against his skin. "I was just waiting for you to come back to bed."

He turned his head towards her, feeling the way she moved to fully cup his jawline in her palm. "Amy had a bad dream."

"The field one again?"

"Yeah."

She moved her hand just long enough to cover her mouth as she stifled a short yawn before she settled her fingers against him once more. Her silence remained for a short bit as she seemed more content with circling her thumb over yet another scar. "Was it the darkness one as well?"

There was no hiding it from her.

"... That too."

She seemed to give a brief nod and slowly scooted herself to be closer to him, eventually resting her head on one of his shoulders. Her skin was always soft to the touch and felt warm against his own, even if they shared a minor difference in tones. She was a bit paler than he was since she spent most of her time inside while he spent long hours outside in the sun. The brief tan made the scars more visible at times but it made them easier for her fingers to find just the same.

"You'll be okay, right?"

Fingers moved to push through her hair, brushing them away from her face to reveal the soft, slender curve of her jaw and cheeks. Her eyes had yet to even open as she preferred to resort to her sense of touch instead, using her fingers to guide her through the darkness. He continued to run his fingers through her hair, feeling the way the soft strands spilled through the open spaces between each one.

"Yeah."


End file.
